Dear Friend,
by IamaNerdFighter5267
Summary: A story following Annabeth of her complicated depression and life as she writes to no one. Listen to her as she finally opens up an lets someone into her thoughts. And met her new friends who might just break her from her shell.
1. 8-26-13

Dear Friend,

I am writing to you because He said you wouldn't ask questions. And that maybe you would listen to me.

Please don't try to figure out who he is or who I am, that would be bad and I don't want you to find me. I didn't enclose a return address for the same reason. I mean nothing bad by this, honest. I just really need to know that someone out there will listen and understands me. I need to know that people like that exist.

I think you, of all people, would understand because you are alive and appreciate what it means to live. At least, I hope you do.

I'm going to try to take a big step here, and open you up to my head, and what my typhoons of thoughts are all about.

I try to think that my family is the reason for me being the way I am, especially after what happened.

It happened when I was four. I can still remember it like it was yesterday...

* * *

(Imagine This)

"_Mom?"_

_There was no answer through the door._

_A small girl cloaked in a silky, light blue nightgown, clutching an old teddy bear silently stepped forward, slightly pushing her parents bedroom door open. Her tight, honey blonde curls a frizzy mess that hung around her perfect porcelain doll-like face. Her normally stormy grey eyes were clear with fear. Thunder rumbled through the skies, rattling the windows. Bright flashes of white lights streaked across the dark cloud covered sky, making the fear balloon of fear swell inside the little girl._

_She pokes her tiny head through the door frame, sneaking a peek into her parents bedroom._

_Their room was tall and old. The walls were lined with dark cherry wooden paneling. Flowly curtains in a deep, rich burgundy swooped at the top and floated in the air as wind blew through the small crack in the window. Vanities and desks were pushed up against the walls, decorated in the same burgundy with twists of gold._

_Her fathers loud, heavy snoring filled the room, muffling the creaks escaping from the old wooden floorboards under the girls feet. She walks further into the room, cautiously approaching the king sized bed in the middle._

_Padding her way around to the right side of the bed she asks again, "Mommy?"_

_Nothing._

_A cool breeze flew through the old Victorian style room. A quiet door creak came from behind the little girl. She turned. A narrow tunnel of light shown through the newly found gap in the bathroom door._

_Frightened and on edge, the little blonde girl slowly made her way to old the door._

_"Mommy?"_

_Silence was her answer._

_Curiosity filled the girl as she poked the door with her small fingers, swinging it forward with another screech from the old hinges._

_There on the bathroom floor, the little girls mother lay across the fluffy gold rug. Her own honey blonde curls fanned out across the floor, streaked with red. Her arms, legs, and wrists covered with the light lines of scars. They were all over. Running horizontally, some parallel, others crossing. Her mothers nightgown, originally an off white color, now covered in red streaks like her hair and the rug she was laying on. No movement came from her chest. Her skin was ice-cold and ghostly pale. Her left arm was bleeding. Empty bottles of pills were strewn across the counter, along with some thin, sharp metal rectangles near the sink._

_"Mom?" The little girl asked again as she approached her mother. She shook her arm, attempting to wake her. "Mommy." She repeated. The little girl was scared that her mom was not waking up. Not noting the red liquid that covered the floor, she took a step closer. A cool wet feeling covered the bottom of her right foot. She looked down at her foot. While looking down she finally noticed a trail of blood on the tile of the bathroom floor. She turned and ran for her father._

_"Daddy! Daddy!" She screeched, shaking his shoulders violently._

_Her father woke with a start. With his sandy blonde hair sticking up in all places and wide blue eyes he asked, "What? What is it Baby Girl?"_

_"There's something wrong with Mommy! She won't wake up!" The little girl said jumping on her father now._

_"What?" He asked with growing fear in his eyes. "Where is she, baby?"_

_"In the bathroom!" The girl flew off her father and to the bathroom door to show him. Sheets were thrown off and loud stumbling feet came to follow. He peeked in and automatically turned to his daughter._

_"Annabeth, Honey. I need you to go into the hallway and call 9-1-1 for Daddy, please." He said holding her shoulders and looking into her eyes as he spoke. Her nodded vigorously and ran to the hallway to call._

_The Father stood there at the bathroom door looking down on his, now dead wife. On the outside he kept calm, careful not to scare his daughter, but on the inside he was starting the long, slow processes of wasting away._

* * *

The fact that my Mother killed herself changed my life. And so far, not for the better.

Now we enter my world.

Love Always,

Annabeth

* * *

**Hey guys! This is my new story and the one that I wanted to create from the beginning. **

**I know it starts off dark, but this is a story of a girl surviving life in today's society and how she overcomes her problems and everything along the way. Sounds boring but hold out for me, it's going to take another chapter or two to get back into this.**

**If you are reading my other stories, they are on hold and will be on hold for a little while...**

**But comments, questions, reviews, ideas, anything else? Type it in that box below or PM me. I love any feed back you give me! **

**Follow, Favorite, do whatever!**

**Later**

**Your Wallflower,**

**Ziley~Rose**


	2. 9-1-13

Dear Friend,

I'm sorry about my last letter ending on sort of a cliff hanger, I didn't mean for it to end that way.

But seeing as I shared a little in my last letter, I can both relax and tense a bit. Mostly because now you probably care less or want to know more.

It's been hard growing up without a Mom. I mean have you ever had a Father put pony-tails in your hair, it's like basically volunteering to have your have ripped out. But that was after his "phase", as my Aunt Molly calls it.

After my Mother died my Aunt Molly moved in with us. She had divorced her "good for nothing, drunk of a husband" and made home in our guest bedroom.

About a month after Aunt Molly moved in Father went dark. He would show up _hours_ after work, reeking of cigarettes and stale vodka. He would slur his words as he yelled at me and Aunt Molly about absolute nonsense. Thankfully, Aunt Molly knew how to deal with him and took care of him. She would sit me on the couch and turn on late-night cartoons while she took my father up-stairs and got him to stop yelling and put him to bed. Then she would make me chamomile tea in my Peter Pan mug with extra honey in it, the same thing her and my Mother would drink on bad nights, and we would sit there and I would fall asleep and I would wake up in the morning in my bed.

But the nights when Aunt Molly had to work... They were awful.

After about a year of this "Phase", Dad got sober and stopped coming home late. He stopped smelling of cigarettes and stale vodka. He stopped yelling at me and Aunt Molly with his slurred words, and Aunt Molly stopped putting him to bed.

Then I grew up to this point in time with my Aunt Molly as my Mother. She's the sweetest person in the world and works as a Bank teller in the local Bank. She's got soft brown hair and huge matching eyes that are as big as the sun. Basically the exact opposite of me.

But tomorrow is my first day of High School and I'm terrified. She tells me that I shouldn't be worried and that it will be fine, but that doesn't stop my brain from launching another typhoon of bad thoughts about High School.

What if the other kids make fun of me? What if I don't find any friends this year?

But then the other half of my brain asks me, _What else could go wrong? Everything bad has already happened._

I have no plan but to just go solo like every other time and to not cause any trouble.

That's a good plan, right?

Love Always,

Annabeth

* * *

**Sorry it's short, but it's starting to come back to me now. One more chapter and I'll be there.**

**Your Wallflower,**

**Ziley~Rose**


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